


Oneshots

by red_to_black



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Angst, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Slash, Smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-05
Updated: 2016-07-06
Packaged: 2018-07-12 09:49:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 14
Words: 16,595
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7097551
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/red_to_black/pseuds/red_to_black
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Collection of all my Briam oneshots/drabbles, all conveniently in one place ^_^</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Paper Planes Outtake #1 - Christmas

**Outtake from a fanfic I never ended up writing. Pure Christmas fluff.**

~*~

Brett opens the door and Liam and Mason are standing on the threshold, Liam holding a small, square box.

Something in Brett’s stomach stumbles a little. Liam’s wearing a long-sleeved, grey crewneck underneath his heavy winter coat - a red and black plaid one - and has a beanie crammed down over his hair, a few gold strands poking out the bottom. He’s red-faced with the cold, but he’s smiling.

“We brought eggnog!” Mason sings as he steps inside. “Where do you want this?”

“Fridge,” Brett says, still looking at Liam. He’s shuffling his feet, looks up and smiles again, almost unwillingly.

“You’re staring at me.”

“Am I?” Brett asks.

Liam shakes his head with a laugh and steps inside, shedding his winter jacket but leaving the beanie on. He looks good, wearing the light grey fleece top and dark blue jeans. He picks up the box from the table inside the door, holds it out to Brett.

“Merry Christmas,” he says.

“You didn’t have to get me anything,” Brett says, surprised.

“I wanted to. Should I take my shoes off?”

“No one else has, don’t worry about it.” Brett motions to the stairs. “Come with me?”

Liam follows him. Mason’s already mingled in with the other party-goers when Brett turns to check; he lets Liam into his room ahead of him, then shuts the door behind them.

“What is it?” he asks.

Liam shrugs. “You could always open it and find out,” he says, smiling. “It is for you.”

Brett sits on the bed, waiting until Liam sits beside him to rip off the paper. There’s a tin inside; when he lifts the lid, he sees the glinting, brand new face of a Fossil watch staring back up at him. The face is white, with glittering golden numerals, the band a light brown leather.

“Liam,” he says, stunned. This had to have been expensive.

“Do you like it?” Liam asks nervously.

“Yeah, I love it, but - why? This must’ve cost you an arm and a leg…”

“I sold a kidney when they took me in for my appendectomy,” Liam says, shrugging. “It was all a ruse.” He smiles when Brett laughs. “You lost your old one. I know this isn’t the same, but I figured, you know. You’ve got that watch tan-line going on. It’s pretty ugly.”

Brett takes the watch out of the box and puts it on. He wonders how long Liam dragged Mason through Nordstrom for before he finally settled on this one and smiles. “Thanks, Liam. I love it.”

Liam shrugs, but he’s blushing faintly and looks pretty pleased. “Glad you like it.”

Brett remembers, then, that Liam mentioned his appendectomy. “How’re you feeling, anyway?” he asks.

Liam blinks. “Huh?”

“Your surgery. It was, what, five days ago? How’s it feeling now?”

“Oh!” Liam lifts up his shirt; there’s a small, neat row of stitches. “I have to go back to get these taken out soon,” he says, then drops his shirt. “But I feel okay. Kinda sore sometimes, but the doctor said that’s normal.”

He looks pretty healthy, Brett decides, and smiles. “Good. That you’re feeling better.”

Liam returns the smile and then looks down at his knees. “I never thanked you for coming to see me,” he says. “It was really nice to have you there. The nurse said you sat with me as soon as you could.”

“Yeah. I didn’t want you to be alone.”

Liam’s chewing his lip, looking like he’s trying to screw up the courage to try and say something. Finally, he says, softly, “I’m glad you were there. When I woke up. Kind of embarrassed, but I’m really happy you stayed.”

Brett opens his mouth, closes it. He’s not sure what to say. He keeps looking at Liam’s lips, which are soft and plump and red in the pale light of his bedroom. He really wants to kiss him right now.

“Brett?” Liam asks uncertainly.

Fuck it. If he’s gonna do it, it may as well be tonight; Liam’s going home in two days time to be with his family over Christmas so if it all goes to hell in a handbasket, well, they can pretend it never happened when he gets back-

He leans down, kisses Liam deeply - not just a peck, because Brett doesn’t half-ass anything once he’s decided to man up - fitting his mouth against Liam’s and revelling in just how soft and smooth his lips are.

He’s surprised to feel Liam returning the kiss, his lips moving and pliant beneath Brett’s, so Brett reaches up to put his hand on the side of Liam’s neck, tilts his face up a little bit. He hasn’t kissed anyone for a while and he’s only ever kissed girls so this is different - Liam’s cheeks aren’t as soft as a girl’s and his grip on Brett’s arm is much harder.

He loves it.

Brett feels Liam pull away and leans back, staring down at him. “Brett,” Liam breathes. “What-”

“I’ve wanted to do that for so long,” Brett groans, and puts a hand on Liam’s waist, tipping him until he’s lying back against the mattress and Brett can hover above him. “You’ve got no idea.”

“I do now,” Liam says, his eyes wide. “Are you sure, though?”

“Never been more sure of anything in my life.” He leans down and reclaims Liam’s mouth, revels in the way Liam melts down into the mattress and lets him take control of the kiss. He guesses Pete was right - Liam’s a total bottom.

He tongues at the seam of Liam’s lips and Liam opens his mouth, obediently, willingly, and sighs at the first touch of Brett’s tongue against his, holding Brett’s face in both hands.

He feels Liam shift underneath him, realises Liam’s opened his legs and moves so that he’s kneeling over Liam, one leg between the gap in his legs and the other pressed into the mattress next to his hip, pushing a hand up Liam’s shirt to palm at his abs and chest. Liam’s breathing heavily into their kiss, through his nose, his face tilted up.

God, it’s nothing like kissing a girl. Liam’s abs are rock hard and smooth, nothing soft about them - Brett can feel the lines of them against his palm and the pads of his fingers - and his kisses are more bruising, less submissive even if he is on the bottom. He slides his hand up further, finds a sparse thatch of hair on Liam’s chest, strokes at it until he moves back down, rubbing Liam’s torso in long, slow motions that have Liam pushing up into his hand, seeking the contact.

“Brett, where the hell - oh. Oh. Oops.”

Brett jumps when he hears Pete’s voice, turns around and yanks his hand out from underneath Liam’s shirt. Pete’s red in the face, staring at them.

“I knocked,” he says weakly.

“It’s okay,” Brett says, a little embarrassed at how breathless he is. “What’s up?”

“Dude, the party is in full swing and one of the hosts is nowhere to be seen,” Pete says, grinning sheepishly. “Guess I know why now though. Hey, Liam.”

Liam rises up onto his elbows. “Hi,” he says softly, clearly embarrassed.

“I’ll tell everyone you’re otherwise occupied,” Pete says slyly. “Merry Christmas.”

“Fuck you, Pete,” Brett says, but he’s laughing as his roommate leaves.

He looks back at Liam, who’s flushed for completely different reasons now and still up on his elbows. His eyes skirt around Brett’s on their way down.

“Why so skittish, Li?” he asks softly.

“Did you mean to do that?”

“What? You mean this?” He tilts Liam’s chin up and kisses him again. “Yeah. I meant it. All of it.”

Liam smiles at him for a moment, and then his face falls. “I go away soon,” he says. “What… what’s gonna happen then?”

“I’ll take you to the airport,” Brett says. “And I’ll be there to pick you up when you come back. I’ll still be here.”

Liam’s starting to smile again. “Really?”

“Yeah. Dude, I’ve thought about it way too much to let it go now.” Brett lies on the mattress next to Liam, grinning. “I’m gonna show up at the airport with flowers,” he says. “Roses. A dozen red ones. Then I’m gonna sweep you into a limo-”

He can’t continue, because Liam’s started giggling and damn it, the little motherfucker is infectious when he does that. “No flowers necessary,” Liam giggles. “I’ll still come home with you. Plus, I get hay fever. Put me in a car with flowers and I can guarantee I’ll be on death’s door by the time we’re back here.”

“Note to self: never buy Liam flowers. He’ll die.”


	2. Paper Planes Outtake #2 - Airport

**A (very slight) continuation of the previous outtake. Enjoy <3 **

~*~

Brett’s alarm goes off at four forty in the morning.

He almost snoozes it, then remembers why it’s on in the first place. His stomach leaps excitedly before he’s even really woken up properly - Liam’s coming home today, after nearly three weeks of being away in California.

He rolls over, turns the lamp on to avoid going back to sleep, and checks his phone.

From: Liam Dunbar, 11:19PM

About to board. See you soon :-)

Brett smiles sleepily, stands up, and has a quick shower before grabbing his keys and wallet and leaving the apartment. It’s an hour’s drive to the airport, but he doesn’t mind - he blasts music and tries to work out what he’ll say to Liam when he sees him.

They’ve been texting a lot while Liam’s been away, and they Facetimed once or twice too, despite the time difference of four hours being difficult to navigate.

But that’s different to face-to-face conversation, and they only kissed a day before Liam left. It might be strange.

He parks at the airport and heads inside, scanning the arrivals board. Liam’s flight is running fifteen minutes late, so Brett goes and gets them both a coffee. Liam doesn’t sleep on planes; he’s told Brett that before.

He sits down to wait, sipping his coffee somewhat nervously. Liam’s flight lands, and people begin to stream through the revolving doors, looking haggard and stressed.

Liam’s the last one out. His eyes are soft and sleepy, red-rimmed, and he’s pale with lack of sleep. Still, he doesn’t look irritated like the other travelers, and his eyes light up when they land on Brett. He makes a beeline to the chairs.

Brett stands up, smiling,and hugs Liam tightly when he reaches him. “Hey,” he murmurs, kissing the side of Liam’s head gently. “Welcome home.”

Liam leans back with a smile, then kisses him quickly. It’s short, closed-mouthed - Liam tastes a little like toothpaste. “Hi,” he murmurs back.

Brett holds him for a couple more seconds. Liam smells like warmth and sleep, and he seems pretty happy to be back, if the way he’s got Brett’s hoodie bunched in his hand is any indication.

Brett pulls away. “Got you coffee,” he says, holding it out.

“Oh, cool.” Liam looks pleased about this turn of events. “Thanks.” He takes it, and Brett looks him over - realises Liam’s wearing the hoodie Brett lent him the night of the Christmas party.

He tugs on the edges a little bit. “Green looks good on you.”

Liam blushes faintly, like he’s just realised he’s been walking around with “TALBOT 28″ emblazoned across his back. “Thanks. I didn’t mean to keep it when I went.”

“I don’t mind. I’m glad you had it.”

They head down to baggage claim; the sun is only just starting to rise when Liam spots his bag on the luggage carousel and grabs it. It’s pelting down with rain when they get out of the terminal.

“Good trip?” Brett asks.

“It was great,” Liam says cheerfully. “I got to see my dog again.”

“… And your parents, right?”

Liam laughs. “Right.”

“Santa treat you well?”

“Pretty well. Gramma got us all cards that said Happy Thanksgiving and didn’t seem to realise that it was actually Christmas, even though my mom goes hardcore with the decorations every year and there were life-sized elves in the front yard. She also asked me what I want for my sixteenth birthday.”

Liam’s smiling fondly, so Brett laughs. “Oh dear.”

“Yeah. Also asked when I’m bringing my “hot new stud” home to visit.”

“Hot new stud?” Brett questions. “You’re seeing someone else and you didn’t even tell me?”

Liam giggles. He looks pretty tired, so Brett’s going to chalk the noise up to hysteria brought on by lack of sleep and not tease him too much.

Liam tells him more about his family. His “gramma” is almost eighty six and losing it a little, but so far, it’s mostly just little things - Liam’s turned sixteen for the last four years of his life, according to her. Brett loves the way Liam looks animated while talking about her.

“She gave me my first finger of whiskey,” Liam says.

“What?” Brett splutters.

“Yeah. She thought I was sixteen. I was only fifteen and it made me sick but I told Mom it was the turkey.”

“I think I love your grandma.”

Liam looks relieved when they pull up at Brett’s apartment complex, just past seven thirty. He’s into the shower almost as soon as Brett gives him a clean towel, emerging in a pair of sweats and one of Brett’s long-sleeved tops.

“Thanks for picking me up,” he says, smiling as he sits down on Brett’s bed. “It would’ve taken me hours to get home using public transport.”

“I know.” Brett yawns. “I’m beat. You wanna take a nap?”

“Oh God, yes.”

~*~

Liam’s really warm.

Brett didn’t realise that before, somehow, but Liam’s like his own little space heater, putting it out like a furnace. He curls his body around Liam’s like he’s a blanket and listens to him breathe.

Liam drops right off. Brett’s not surprised; Liam hasn’t slept at all since yesterday morning, so he’s got a fair bit of catching up to do. Still, Brett doesn’t mind; he dozes with his nose tucked into the back of Liam’s neck, inhaling the scent of his own shower gel.

He must fall asleep like that. When he wakes up, the skylight in his room is dark - it’s just gone ten in the morning, but there are ominous black clouds rolling across the sky.

The first clap of thunder rouses Liam, who rolls over and plants his face against Brett’s shoulder sleepily. “Time’s it?” he asks groggily.

“Ten. In the morning.” Brett gathers Liam closer. “We’re about to have a storm.”

Liam tilts his head towards the skylight drowsily. “I like storms.”

“Yeah?”

Liam yawns and nods. “Gramma told me if you count the time between claps of thunder, you can tell how close it is.”

Brett didn’t know that. “Do you miss her?”

“Yeah. I kinda wish I lived a little closer. But I get to see her still. It’s okay. Your family?”

Brett shrugs. “I see them enough.” They don’t approve of his “lifestyle” as his father put it, even though they didn’t like his ex girlfriend either (he’s not sure how to win here), and they both wanted him to study law. He sees them enough to remind him that he doesn’t really enjoy seeing them.

“Mom told me to bring you home next holidays,” Liam says sleepily. “How’s California for a holiday sound?”

“Amazing,” Brett says, kissing Liam gently. “You know what else sounds amazing?”

“What?”

Brett rolls on top of him. “Making out,” he says innocently.

Liam rolls his eyes. “Smooth, Brett.” But he doesn’t protest when Brett’s mouth lowers to his.


	3. Prompt #17 - Must Be This Tall To Ride

**(tya-us, I was SO HOPING someone would send me this prompt <3) Also, not reaching the height requirements for a ride is pretty fucking insulting. I would know.**

**‘Must be this tall to ride’, my ass!**

~*~

Brett figured the amusement park would be a great place for Liam to actually unwind.

It’s not like he didn’t know that Liam’s a hyper-compressed ball of indignation and rage - he did. But it can’t be good for his blood pressure to be so fucking wound up all the time. The kid’s sixteen and he continually looks like he’s on the edge of his proverbial seat.

“Would you chill out?” he chuckles, handing Liam his frozen yoghurt. “What now?”

Liam looks up at him balefully. “There’s a ten-year-old running around naked over there.”

“So don’t look,” Brett laughs, ruffling Liam’s hair. “C’mon, let’s go scope out some rides or something. Nobody can be this miserable at an amusement park, Liam.”

“I can,” Liam grumbles, but he looks like he’s fighting back a smile. “Stop making me laugh. I’m moody.”

“I know you’re moody, I’ve been with you for a year now,” Brett says with a smile. “That’s exactly why you’re here. No worrying about werewolf stuff or Scott or school or anything else. Just chill.”

“I don’t know how to just chill.”

“Okay.” Brett steals the mouthful of frozen yoghurt Liam had been about to eat, ignoring the outrage on his face, and says, “how ‘bout you finish that and we go find something to ride?”

“Like what?”

“Like The Giant Drop,” Brett snickers, watching Liam’s face light up. “It’s the highest ride here. Slowly takes you a mile and a half in the air and drops you in less than a second.”

“That sounds awesome,” Liam says gleefully.

So they finish Liam’s frozen yoghurt between them - much to Liam’s disgust - and then head for The Giant Drop. Liam stares up at it eagerly as it drops to the ground, carrying eight screaming passengers on the way.

“That. Looks. Awesome.”

“It is.” Brett throws their container in the bin. “C’mon.”

He only realises that this ride may be a problem when they reach the height stick before the line. He hesitates, but stops Liam before he goes to line up - he has a really bad feeling that Liam might not actually be tall enough, and if he isn’t, well, Brett doesn’t want to get to the front of the line and realise it there.

“Stand here,” he says, grabbing Liam’s shoulders.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Liam mutters, but he stands with his shoulders squared back. “I’m not a kid.”

He might not be. But that doesn’t change the fact that Liam’s not tall enough to get on The Giant Drop. The height requirement specifies at least five foot six… and Liam, who’s not done growing, is only just scraping five foot four.

“You’re joking,” Liam says incredulously, and Brett realises he’s read the expression on his face. “You’re actually joking right now.”

“Sorry, buddy,” Brett murmurs, wincing.

Liam whips around and stares at the sign with indignation written all over his face. “What?” he squawks. “Five foot six?! I know girls that are way shorter than that!”

“Liam-”

“’Must be this tall to ride’, my ass!” Liam splutters furiously.

“How ‘bout we find another ride?”

“I’m not even five foot six!”

“You will be next year,” Brett says, well aware of the fact that he sounds like he’s begging. “Liam, buddy, this isn’t a fight you can win. C’mon. Let’s go find another ride.”

“I’m going to set this ride on fire,” Liam mutters mutinously, turning on his heel and stalking away. Brett follows him, smiling and trying not to laugh.

“What can I even get on?” Liam moans.

“Me?” Brett asks hopefully, and Liam shoves him bodily into a kiddy pool. He might be short, but he’s pretty fucking sturdy for a sixteen year old.

“Okay,” Brett chuckles, climbing out of the pool and shaking himself off. “How about the teacups?”

“I’m going to kill you, Brett.”


	4. Prompt #8 - I Don't Hate You

**Porn with very little plot. Shameless smut.**

**'I don’t hate you, I just strongly dislike you.'**

~*~

“So… I’m gonna need a lift home.”

Brett rolls onto his stomach to look at Liam; he’s covered in a sheen of sweat, the sheet barely tugged up over his hips, his lips still bitten red and kind of puffy from kissing.

“What?” Brett demands.

Liam narrows his eyes like he’s trying to glare a hole into Brett’s forehead. “A lift home,” he says slowly. “You jumped me in the fucking locker room, remember?”

“I didn’t jump you!” Brett huffs. “We were having a reasonable discussion-”

Liam snorts, flips onto his back, and puts his arms behind his head, closing his eyes. As much as Brett’s blood pressure is rising, he’s enjoying looking at the long, hard lines of Liam’s body against his sheets.

“You started it,” Liam mutters.

Brett’s temper flares. “I did n-”

Except he kind of did, didn’t he? Liam’s sort of right. Brett sought Liam out, not the other way around.

_“Liam!”_

_Liam whirls around to face him. “Get out,” he snaps._

_“Get out?” Brett asks incredulously. “You’re really gonna try to throw me out of a public locker room?”_

_Liam glares at him as he strips his shirt off; his chest is still heaving from the exertion of the game. Other people will be back soon, Brett’s sure._

_“Whatever,” Liam mutters._

_He’s the most infuriating person Brett’s ever met, but also the hottest. He grabs Liam’s arm as he goes to walk away, feels the surge of anger it causes, and steps back a little bit._

_“Why do you hate me?” he demands. “Is this about Devenford? I apologisd for that-”_

_“I don’t hate you,” Liam mutters. “I just strongly dislike you.”_

_They stand there like that for a while, Liam breathing heavily, Brett still holding his arm. Nobody else has entered the locker room yet._

_Liam tilts his chin up, a clear challenge, and says, “Are you going to let me go?” in a voice that‘s just as much of a challenge as his gaze is._

_“Fuck you, Liam,” Brett breathes, then yanks him in closer and kisses him._

_He wonders briefly if Liam will hit him, but there’s barely a second before Liam’s kissing him back, furiously, almost desperately._

_They somehow come to the agreement that they’re going to Brett’s when the locker room door opens, revealing their teammates. They break apart, but only long enough to grab their things and leave._

_Liam’s on him the moment they’re inside Brett’s room - Brett might’ve started this, but Liam’s going to finish it, if the way he’s pushing Brett down onto his bed and climbing on top of him is any indication._

_Brett grasps the hem of Liam’s shirt. “Take this off,” he orders, and Liam does, stripping it over his head and letting Brett run his hands up Liam’s torso, stopping only when he gets to the waistband of Liam’s lacrosse shorts, and tugs._

_Brett doesn’t remember prepping Liam at all. He’s aware of very brief moments in which he did - Liam writhing underneath the pressure of his fingers, his hand gripping the back of Brett’s neck, bruisingly tight, his mouth everywhere it can reach._

_Before he knows it, he’s sliding inside, and Liam’s body gives way to him like it was made for him - he lets out a reluctant moan as Brett starts moving, slowly at first, and then faster._

_Brett feels like teasing. He can hear Liam swallowing down a host of different noises, leans down and says, “What, not hard enough?”_

_Liam, to his credit, meets his gaze and says, “Nope,” in a remarkably steady voice for someone who’s getting pounded to within an inch of their life._

_Brett takes the challenge - he speeds up, hits harder, searches for that lucky spot he knows is there and is rewarded by Liam crying out into his ear - loudly, too. Brett kisses him to muffle the noise, sure that one of his pack members will come and check on them if they’re not careful._

_He gathers his arms up under Liam’s shoulders, pulls him close, and gets the angle just right - Liam whimpers into his mouth, his knees and thighs locked around Brett’s waist so tightly it’s a little harder to breathe. His hand snakes down between them, and Brett feels Liam stroking himself._

_He knows when Liam’s about to come, after barely a minute of frantic thrusting from Brett - the breath leaves his lungs in an exhale so deep, Liam’s chest almost caves in, and then he’s pushing his hips upwards._

_Brett wants to feel it - he lets go of Liam’s left shoulder and bats Liam’s hand away from his dick, takes it himself - just as Liam twitches, tilting his head back, and comes hard, shooting up onto his own stomach and chest._

_Brett’s never seen anything hotter. He keeps stroking Liam, sucking a hickey into his neck as he does - feels his own release racing towards him like an out-of-control train._

_“Brett, c’mon,” Liam whimpers._

_When he comes, he’s moaning into the skin of Liam’s neck, shuddering with ecstasy. Liam clenches around him one final time before he goes lax, panting harshly._

_They lie like that for a while. Liam’s breathing like a racehorse, and Brett’s not much better - it’s just starting to settle in that he’s fucked Liam to within an inch of his life, and they don’t even really like one another._

_“So,” Liam says from underneath him. “You, um, plan on… you know?”_

_“Right. Sorry.” Brett pulls out and rolls onto his back._

And now they’re here.

Liam’s staring at him smugly. “I win.”

“You won? I just had the best sex of my life,” Brett says.

“Who’s saying it wasn’t for me?” Liam demands.

“It was good?”

“I came, didn’t I?”

Brett chuckles, then sits up. “I suppose I owe you a lift home, after that,” he admits. “Thanks. Uh…”

“Oh God,” Liam mutters. “Don’t thank me. Just - let me use your shower or something. I can’t go home looking like this.”

“This” meaning “thoroughly well-fucked”, Brett suspects. “Go for it,” he says.

Liam showers quickly, exits in clean clothes - sweats and a white t-shirt. “Thanks for driving me,” he says.

“No problem.” Brett hesitates before asking, but… “Hey, Liam. You wanna do that again sometime? I mean, that was some seriously awesome sex.”

Liam laughs a little. “Okay. But I’m not your boyfriend or whatever.”

“Absolutely not,” Brett says, even as he plots exactly how he’s going to make that happen.


	5. Prompt #23 - Cashier

**This one takes place in the Decibels universe!**

**'That cashier is staring at you.'**

~*~

“Do we need celery for this?”

Brett hears Liam’s voice, distantly, but he’s too distracted to answer. He’s busy trying to catch the eye of the cashier.

They’re in the small grocery store just down the road from his parents’ house. Liam’s been wandering around with the look of someone who has very little idea of where they are or what they’re doing; he’s never been here before, and Brett’s supposed to be helping him.

But he isn’t. The moment they stepped inside, the gormless troll behind the counter set his eyes on Liam, and he hasn’t let up. Brett wants to make eye contact with the guy just so he can glare threateningly at him, but as far as the cashier is concerned, Brett’s invisible. His eyes are on Liam only.

Brett knows it shouldn’t piss him off this much. Liam’s here with him and they’re going to make dinner tonight and babysit his siblings. They’re practically married. But Brett doesn’t like people looking at Liam like that - leering at him, really.

“Brett.”

He finally turns his attention to Liam, who’s glaring at him from behind his glasses. He doesn’t usually wear them outside Brett’s house or his dorm, which Brett thinks is a shame, because Liam looks like a really hot music nerd in them.

“Sorry,” he says. “What?”

“Celery,” Liam repeats slowly. “For the spaghetti.”

“In what world does celery go in spaghetti?” Brett chuckles. “No. Nate behaving for you?”

Liam’s also got Nate balanced on one hip - his baby brother doesn’t seem to mind Liam’s inexperienced grip. He’s clutching Liam’s shoulder and yawning sleepily.

“He’s tired,” Liam says. “So am I.”

“Okay, okay,” Brett grins, hustling Liam further down the aisle. “Let’s keep shopping.”

He’s hardly surprised when Liam throws a loaf of thickly-cut raisin bread into their cart, then smiles innocently when he’s caught. “C’mon. Please?”

Brett only agrees because the cashier is looking again, and saying yes guarantees Liam’s affection for at least another hour. Plus, Liam’s been carrying Nate all day - no small feat when his two-year-old brother is continuously squirming.

The only problem comes when they get to the register. Brett balks when he sees Liam’s stalker-cashier watching them, his lane mostly empty.

“What’re you doing?” Liam asks as Brett bemusedly. “That line’s longer.”

“It’s moving faster, though,” Brett hedges.

Liam rolls his eyes. “Stop being a freak. C’mon.” He lines up in Stalker Cashier’s lane, with Nate wriggling in his arms.

When they get to the front, the cashier - Harry, his nametag says - smiles beatifically at Liam. “Hey. How’re you today?”

He completely ignores Brett. Brett glares sullenly.

“Good,” Liam says, juggling Nate and his wallet at the same time. “Brett, dude, we can’t pay if we don’t get anything scanned.”

Brett starts unloading the groceries, watching stupid Harry dip his head flirtatiously and lean forward over the counter. Liam, who doesn’t like physical closeness unless he really knows someone, leans away to counteract it, and Brett smirks smugly.

Harry’s eyes meet his over the counter and narrow. Brett stares back - Harry’s at least a foot shorter than him and there’s no way Brett’s going to be intimidated by some gangly teenager.

He slings an arm around Liam’s shoulder just to make it perfectly clear that Liam’s taken. Liam looks up at him, bemused, and then at Harry. The corners of his lips twitch, threatening to pull up into a smile.

Harry finally looks away, and Brett grins smugly. Liam passes Nate off to Brett so he can pay, and then they leave.

Liam turns to brett outside, grinning. “Really?”

“That cashier was staring at you,” Brett grumbles.

Liam laughs. “Dude, I’m fu - I’m grocery shopping with you,” he says, stumbling as he avoids swearing around Nate. “You don’t need to worry about anyone else.”

“Well I do. Sue me.”

“He wasn’t even cute,” Liam says dismissively.

“I’m not worried about that. I don’t like it when people flirt with you. Only I’m allowed to flirt with you.”

“Shut up,” Liam laughs, turning red. “How’re you gonna enforce that?”

“You were there,” Brett says pointedly. “I just did.”

Liam puts his seatbelt on and turns, briefly, to look at Nate. Brett watches him fondly.

“By the way,” he says, “what kind of person thinks celery goes into spaghetti?”


	6. Prompt #28 - Fort

**Blanket forts are fucking awesome, by the way. This is set somewhere in the future in Decibels. :)**

**'I don't like you. Get out of my fort.'**

~*~

“You know, when I said yeah, I’ll help Brett babysit his little brother, this isn’t what I expected.”

Brett grins; Liam peers at him, almost accusatorily, over the stack of cushions and blankets he’s holding. Brett’s already set up the chairs in a perfect formation to build a sturdy blanket fort - which, apparently, is not a past time Liam’s familiar with.

“Is this better or worse than what you were expecting?” Brett asks, taking some of the linen off Liam’s hands.

“To be honest, I’m still trying to work that out,” Liam admits, then bends down to pick up Nate, who’s crawling around at his feet. “How come he doesn’t have to help?”

“He’s two,” Brett says. “And lacks any fine motor skills or… well, any skills. At all. He’s just a chubby ball of goop.”

“That’s such a nice way to talk about your baby brother,” Liam comments, kissing Nate’s nose before putting him down in his playpen and rejoining Brett. “Okay, what do I do?”

“Here.” Brett hands a sheet and a pack of Lori’s hair elastics to Liam. “Tie the sheets to the chairs so we have a roof. I’ll make the walls.”

“Roof and walls,” Liam mutters, shaking his head and smiling. “How old are you again?”

“Old enough to be left responsible for a two year old.”

“And here I thought I’d been left responsible for you and the two-year old,” Liam teases. “Okay. What now?”

He’s secured the sheet pretty well, considering this is his first blanket fort. “Now,” Brett says, “you get the snacks while I finish the walls.”

Liam’s starting to really enjoy himself, by the looks of it; he’s smiling easily as he leaves the room. Brett watches him go; whatever jeans Liam’s wearing, they’re doing great things for his ass… and Brett’s view.

“You starin’ at my butt?” Liam yells from the kitchen.

“Only a little.” He can’t fuck Liam in the blanket fort with his two-year-old brother in the room, which is a shame, but this isn’t anything they can’t repeat at Brett’s place. “Okay, you’re up.”

Liam comes back into the room, carrying a precariously balanced stack of snack food. “Me? What do I do?”

“You crawl in there and spread out all the blankets,” Brett says.

“Why me?”

“Because you’re short and fit easier.”

Liam grumbles good-naturedly as he slides under the front flap of the fort and starts spreading out blankets and pillows. “I can’t believe I’m doing this,” he says. “I never thought there was a non-sexual use for bedsheets when you have a boyfriend. I guess when he’s an actual child himself-”

“Hey, you’re way closer to being a kid than me, shortass,” Brett chuckles, getting Nate out of his playpen and passing him to Liam, inside the fort. “Now enjoy it.”

“Yes sir,” Liam says, saluting clumsily. Nate giggles and mimics the action, smacking Liam in the face in the process.

They settle in against the pillows, Nate on Liam’s chest. Brett’s gotta admit, he’s pretty smitten with the way Liam holds Nate and smiles at him like he means more to him than just being Brett’s little brother.

“You’re good with him,” Brett says.

“He’s a good kid,” Liam says, turning his head to smile at Brett brightly.

Brett smiles back. Liam’s a lot less self conscious now, and it shows. He’s glad. He’d love Liam no matter what, probably, but this thoroughly unselfconscious version that only he gets to see is probably his favourite.

“Of course,” Liam says, faux-thoughtfully, “he does have a playmate his age who’s a lot less mature than him. That probably helps.”

Brett’s jaw drops; Liam laughs, and Nate follows along like the chubby, drooling traitor he is. “Liam,” he says, quite clearly, which only gives Brett an even deeper impression that his baby brother definitely likes his boyfriend more than him.

“I don’t like you,” he says sullenly, and Liam starts laughing. “Get out of my fort.”

“Nope. I like it here. We both like it here. Don’t we, Nate.”

“For,” Nate confirms.

“Yup. That’s it. Me and your chubby, toothless little brother really like this fort, as a matter of fact, and if we put it to a vote, you can leave.”

Brett huffs, leans over, and pouts, right in Liam’s face. “I’m not going anywhere,” he mutters. “I’m just gonna be sullen for the next few hours.”

“Can’t have that,” Liam says, leaning forward. “Better kiss it better.”

Brett has to smile as Liam kisses him softly, no tongue, no open mouth - it’s chaste, not heated, but it’s comforting in a way Brett hasn’t had in a long time.

“Ew,” Nate says.

Liam laughs.


	7. Prompt #42 - I'm Scared

**Okay, this one's set in the Threads universe. Enjoy <3**

**'I'm scared and I don't want to be alone.'**

~*~

“Liam?

Liam looks up at him from underneath a spiky, wet fan of eyelashes, shivering a little. He’s soaked through to the bone, wearing his lacrosse shorts and a way-too-big t-shirt that can’t possibly belong to him. Brett blinks.

"Did - did you come straight from the lacrosse game?” he demands, then sniffs when he catches the scent of blood - Liam’s blood. “Fuck, Liam, are you still hurt?” he panics.

“I’m not hurt,” Liam mumbles. “Not anymore, anyway.” He starts to turn around. “Sorry, I don’t know why I-”

“Don’t apologise,” Brett says quickly, catching his elbow. “Come inside. At least get cleaned up. Do your parents know where you are?”

“I told them I was with you.”

“Okay,” Brett murmurs. “Um, I can try and find you a shirt?”

Liam nods. The rest of Brett’s pack leaves them alone as they head to Brett’s room - Liam starts stripping off his clothes as soon as he’s in there, revealing the long slash wounds on his torso. They’ve healed, but they’re still incredibly raw and pink looking.

“Does it hurt?” Brett asks.

Liam shakes his head.

His shower is barely long enough for Brett to find some semi-suitable clothes. He gives them to a clean, wet Liam once he’s out, watches as he gets dressed.

Liam smells distressed. Distraught, even. Brett sits quietly next to him once Liam’s done getting dressed - into a pair of Brett’s boxers and a t-shirt, both of which are too big for him.

“Liam?” he asks softly.

Liam turns to him. Twin tears snake down his cheeks. “Mason’s the Beast,” he whispers.

“Huh?” Brett asks, watching as Liam’s face crumples. “Liam-”

“Mason’s the Beast,” Liam repeats in a moan. “We didn’t - we didn’t even think to check, because he’s Mason, and Corey took him, and I lost the scent, I-”

“We’ll find him,” Brett says, pulling Liam close. “We’ll help him, Liam, I promise.”

They sit in silence for a while. Brett leans back, looks at Liam intently.

“Why’d you come here?” he murmurs. “If you were trying to find Mason-”

“I’m scared and I don’t want to be alone,” Liam blurts out, his voice cracking miserably. “I didn’t want to bother you but - but I feel like this is somehow Scott’s fault, or mine, or everyone’s, and you’re the only person who feels safe.”

Brett kisses Liam’s forehead, softly, rubs his back in long, sweeping, hopefully soothing strokes. “You aren’t alone,” he murmurs. “You’ve got me. We’ll get Mason back.”

Liam nods, swallowing, then wipes his eyes. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be,” Brett says. He looks around; he was sort of about to go to bed. “Um… you wanna stay the night?”

“Is that okay?” Liam looks desperately hopeful at the prospect.

“Of course,” Brett says. “Just let your mom know, okay? I don’t want her to destroy me.”

Liam smiles, a tiny little fragment of a thing that seems dangerously fragile. “Okay,” he mumbles. “I’ll call her.”

Brett’s already brushed his teeth and gotten into bed by the time Liam’s called his mom. He watches Liam slip under the covers, but he looks anxious.

“Liam,” he says. “We’ll find him, okay?”

Liam nods, curling up against Brett’s side. “Okay.”


	8. Prompt #83 - Shoes

**Set in the Decibels universe. I know... what a shock... so surprising...**

**'Wait... you can't tie your shoes?'**

~*~

“You ready?”

Brett fumbles and curses under his breath, hearing Liam’s voice drift down the hallway. “In a second,” he calls back.

There’s a pause, and then Liam’s footsteps start towards the bedroom. Brett jerks upright, looking at Liam innocently as he enters. His nose has got that cute scrunch in it, usually caused by confusion, and he’s pushing his arms into his jacket sleeves.

“What’re you waiting for?” he asks.

“I was just taking my sweet time,” Brett says, then smiles. “And I like watching you walk in those jeans.”

Liam, predictably, blushes. “Someone has to benefit, I guess,” he mumbles, tucking his hands in his pockets. “C'mon. It’s getting dark.”

“Okay,” Brett hedges.

There’s a long pause. Brett fidgets with his cast, irritated by its weight and how it itches and its general presence. Liam stares at him blankly. He looks incredible tonight, Brett realises belatedly - black jeans and his Converse (Brett wants to burn them just so he has to wear something else), a dark maroon t-shirt and a denim jacket, lined with faux fur, that fits him perfectly across the shoulders. He’s got ridiculously beautiful skin, too, considering that Brett’s three years older and still getting zits.

“Liam-” Brett starts.

“Wait,” Liam says, slowly. “You can’t tie your shoes, can you?”

“I can so,” Brett grumbles.

“With your whole hand bandaged up?” Liam asks disbelievingly. “Right.” With that, he knees at Brett’s feet and begins tying his laces; Brett watches him work, because Liam’s left-handed and seems to do it backwards, which is interesting.

“Thanks,” he mumbles, embarrassed.

Liam sighs as he straightens out properly, but he’s smiling. “Why didn’t you just tell me?” he asks gently. “I would’ve tied them for you ages ago if I’d known.”

“I dunno,” Brett says. “It’s lame.”

“Right,” Liam snorts.

“You know, if you just bent forward a little bit, you could probably help me out with another thing I’ve been having trouble with,” Brett says hopefully.

Liam rolls his eyes and stands up. “If I do that, we’re gonna miss the movie,” he says pointedly.

“That would hardly be the end of the world,” Brett grins. “I’d get off and we’d both save money.”

“What about me?” Liam whines.

“I’m fairly sure I could fuck you without having use of my right hand,” Brett teases, watching Liam flush spectacularly. “And I’m sure you could be persuaded to make it easy for me.”

Liam - who’s gone bright, bright red - mumbles something incoherently about movie times and maybe later. Brett stands up, marvelling how much shorter than him Liam really is. Probably done growing, too, what with being eighteen. Brett’s got a thing for shorter people - he likes being able to sling an arm around their shoulders protectively and pull them in close. It helps that Liam never fights him off.

“You’re cute,” he says.

“Fuck you,” Liam responds automatically.

Brett chuckles. “Hey, I just tried to,” he laughs. “You said no.”

“Well, ask me again,” Liam huffs.

“Liam Dunbar,” Brett says seriously, “will you do me the honour of having loud, passionate, raise-the-roof sex with me tonight?”

“Oh my God,” Liam mumbles.

“On one condition.”

“Yeah? What’s that?”

“Can you untie my shoes for me?”


	9. Karaoke

**So, untillambsbecomelionss was responsible for this prompt and the next one!**

**Prompt: Grumpy/bemused/barely awake Liam stumbling in on Brett and his bathroom antics.**

~*~

Liam’s not sure what pisses him off more - waking up before his alarm is due to go off, or waking up to a noise that isn’t his alarm.

He lifts his head sleepily, glaring at the doorway. He’s got sleep in his eyes and he can barely see, but it’s cracked open, and he can hear the bathroom fan whirring. When he rolls over, about to tell Brett to tell Pete to knock it the fuck off, he finds Brett gone.

“What the fuck,” Liam mutters, sliding out of bed clumsily. He’s awake now, and there’s one hell of a racket going on in the bathroom, and Liam’s about to fucking rain on someone’s parade. Then eat a bagel and go back to bed.

He blinks as he stumbles towards the bathroom. He’s barely awake and he’s pretty pissed off about it, too. “Hey,” he complains as he enters. “Dude-”

He stops. Brett’s standing there, wearing nothing more than a towel, his hair already perfectly coiffed and holding what looks like a shampoo bottle to his lips, singing what Liam thinks might be an awful rendition of Lady Gaga’s “Poker Face”. The only positive thing Liam can say about the entire scene is that a) Brett is wearing only a towel, and b) he’s gyrating his hips so obscenely Liam feels like maybe his stupid boyfriend missed his calling as a male stripper.

Liam stands in the doorway. Brett knows he’s there - he makes eye contact with Liam in the mirror and grins, tripping over the next verse of the song - but he doesn’t stop. Liam blinks. Looks around. For some stupid reason, he’s the one who feels out of place here, wearing Superman boxers and a plain t-shirt.

“Care to join me?” Brett asks smoothly.

“What the fuck is happening?” Liam asks bemusedly.

Brett laughs. “Didn’t I warn you? Fridays are karaoke days.”

“I - what? No.”

“What do you mean, no?” Brett giggles.

“I mean - you woke me up at this fucking ungodly hour-”

“It’s half past eight, Liam-”

“With - with - you’re not even getting the words right!” he splutters.

“Yes I am,” Brett says cheerfully.

Liam recognises that he’s being baited, but he can’t leave it the fuck alone. “No,” he says, flustered. “You aren’t. It’s "she’s got me like nobody” not “she’s got me on her body”. I work in a fucking music store! I hear this God-awful sugar-coated dime-a-dozen horseshit all day, every day-“

Brett finally stops singing, but only because he’s bent over and wheezing with laughter. "I guess,” he chokes out, “if you know the words, you’re gonna have to sing for me.”

“I’m not taking part in this. You’re probably going to hell,"Liam says moodily, crossing his arms over his chest.

"If I go to hell, this won’t be the reason.” Brett’s smiling as he drags Liam into the bathroom. “C'mon. You’re already awake and you’re such a cute little sourpuss. Let me lighten you up a little bit.”

“Calling me a cute little sourpuss wasn’t a good way to start,” Liam snarks.

Brett pouts at him, now, obviously changing tack. “I’ll let you suck my dick,” he pleads.

“You’ll let me suck your dick?” Liam says disbelievingly. “Don’t you mean you’ll beg me to suck it?”

Brett grabs his hand and slides it between the folds of the towel; he’s already half hard, just from Liam showing up in his stupid Superman boxers and arguing with him about Lady Gaga - and nope, Liam’s not touching that particular part of Brett’s psychological makeup with a ten foot pole.

This pole, on the other hand… he squeezes, and it swells in his grip, weighty. Brett leans his forehead against Liam’s, smiling impishly.

“Okay, fine,” Liam mumbles. “Where’s the fucking shampoo bottle, you freak?”


	10. Bagels

**Same prompt as the last chapter!**

**So, this was sort of the other part of the prompt. In which Liam is equally as bemused, but the situation involves a fully clothed Brett, Snapchat, and two bagels.**

~*~

“Brett!” Liam calls. “We gotta go!”

Nothing. Not a sound. Liam huffs, quelling the urge to throw a tantrum, and closes the door of their hotel room behind him.

Coachella. He’s pretty excited to be here; he and Brett have saved most of the summer and arrived in the city today. They’ll be camping on the grounds tomorrow, when the festival’s actually started - but for now, they want to do some sightseeing, and they’ve booked the hotel.

They’re due to catch a bus soon. Except… Liam’s boyfriend is nowhere to be found.

“I literally went to go get fucking ice from the damn vending machine down the hall and he’s fucking gone,” Liam mutters to himself, putting the bucket of ice in the freezer. “How? How does a six foot three manchild just go missing? How do I not notice?”

He’s gonna suck at his job. If he loses the one person he loves more than anything or anyone, there’s no way in hell he’ll be able to keep track of anyone else. Maybe he shouldn’t do law enforcement.

“Beeeegels!”

Liam freezes. Straightens up. Turns towards the bathroom, which, now that he’s actually looking, has the door cracked open. Brett’s suitcase is open on the bed. His phone charger’s missing from it; Liam knows the only other outlet is next to the sinks. Which is poorly designed if you ask him. (No one did, and Brett was less than enthusiastic about the topic when Liam brought it up.)

He wonders, briefly, if that’s Brett. Then again, he doubts any other loser would be in their bathroom, affecting a high-pitched voice and trilling about bagels. He only knows one person who’s crazy enough to do something like that… and he spends at least forty percent of said time with that person on his back, getting pounded to within an inch of his life. So who’s the real idiot there?

He pushes the bathroom door open, taking a moment to appreciate just how good Brett looks in plain blue jeans, sneakers, and a black t-shirt. He’s grinning happily, holding his phone up to take a selfie - Brett’s fucking addicted to Snapchat - and has a bagel in his other hand.

“Begels got me begging please, no,” Brett crows, taking a bite and getting icing sugar on his nose and lips before continuing, in a muffled voice, “no, nooo, noooo!”

Liam wants to snark, to say something sarcastic… instead, he leans against the doorjamb and watches, fondly amused, his heart swelling with affection, as Brett continues, for a few minutes, to Snapchat his bagel-eating adventure.

_I love you. You dork._

“Have fun?” he asks when Brett’s finished the bagel.

Brett whips around - he’s still covered in icing sugar. “How long were you standing there?”

“Long enough.” Liam slides into the bathroom, suddenly unconcerned about whether or not they miss the bus. He swipes his thumb across Brett’s lips to collect the icing sugar sitting there.

Brett smiles at him hopefully. “Did you think it was cute and not weird?”

“You pull it off,” Liam says, pulling Brett down to kiss his nose - and lick the sugar off it. “Good bagel?”

“I got you one as well,” Brett says sheepishly. “It’s in the microwave.”

“Why is it - never mind. I don’t care. Thanks.”

“Maybe we can continue the thrilling saga?” Brett asks hopefully. “Except this bagel is his wife.”

“Dude. I’ve never eaten a woman before, and I’m not gonna.”

Brett laughs.


	11. Prompt #11 and #13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OH MY GOD I'M SO SORRY

**Otherwise known as CONGRATULATIONS, YOU PLAYED YOURSELF.**

**I cried so much lol. I'm a total wuss.**

**Trigger warnings for blood and death.**

**11\. I'm going to take care of you, okay?  
13\. You can't die. Please don't die.**

~*~

_I can’t take it out._

Brett swallows as he looks down at the piece of metal embedded in Liam’s side. It’s sharp, looks like it might’ve been part of a car door at some point.

He can’t move it. If he moves it, Liam’s gonna bleed to death in about five minutes flat. Right now, the metal is the only thing stopping Liam from losing blood even faster than what he already is.

Brett looks up at Liam’s face. He’s gone totally white, and his whole body is wracked with tremors. Shock. Brett knows it’s shock; when Liam’s eyes meet his, they’re glassy, confused. He doesn’t seem like he’s in pain anymore, and that’s not good.

Liam licks his lips. “Take it out,” he begs softly.

“I can’t.” Brett’s hands are shaking; they’re stained with Liam’s blood. He’s wrapped the wound as best he can with bandages, but they’re already soaked through. There’s blood dripping onto the ground beneath Liam, saturating the duvet cover Liam’s lying on.

“Please,” Liam whispers.

“Liam, if I take it out, you’re going to bleed to death,” Brett explains, his voice breaking. “If I take it out it’s gonna tear you open worse. Right now it’s the only thing plugging your veins shut.”

Liam closes his eyes; his hand flutters around the shrapnel, and he pricks his index finger on it before Brett can discourage his fidgeting. “It hurts,” he breathes.

“I know.” Brett’s voice breaks again. “I know it does, baby.” He searches desperately for something that might help with the pain, but he dropped his pack back at the site of the explosion. He doesn’t even know where the others are, he can’t move Liam, and he has no way of getting help.

Liam exhales. The sound is feeble and wobbling in the room. He’s covered in a sheen of sweat; his hand, when it brushes Brett’s, is cold. He wants to offer something, anything, but he can’t see anything - this hotel room was looted a long time ago.

It hits him, then. Liam’s too weak to move, Brett has nothing in the way of medical supplies, and the bloodstain on the bed is spreading quickly. Liam’s lips are flecked with blood; it’s not just external bleeding Brett’s dealing with.

_He’s going to die here_ , Brett realises. _There’s nothing I can do._

He climbs up onto the bed next to Liam and lies next to him, putting an arm under Liam’s head and his legs underneath Liam’s - try to keep them elevated, so that some blood can get back to his heart. Not that that matters much now; Liam’s breathing is shaky and weak. Rapid.

“I’m going to take care of you, okay?” Brett asks, his wobbling.

Liam opens his eyes. It takes him a few seconds to focus on Brett’s face. “I’m tired,” he murmurs.

Oh, shit. Brett swallows and tries not to cry; if Liam doesn’t know he’s dying, Brett doesn’t want him to. He wants to cry - to beg Liam to hold on a little longer, in case help comes - to hold on a little longer so there’s a few more bare, empty seconds where Brett doesn’t have to deal with his death.

He strokes Liam’s face. He still thinks Liam’s beautiful, even like this, even with shrapnel embedded in his side and blood flowing freely from the wound. Liam’s lips are parted, and Brett can hear him breathe - hard, but rapid. Like it’s a real effort to keep his lungs working. And it probably is, at this point.

He strokes Liam’s cheekbone with his thumb, and Liam opens his eyes. He stares up into Brett’s face, eyes flickering across its surface. They finally settle on Brett’s eyes.

Brett’s throat tightens. Liam knows. He can see it in Liam’s face; he _knows_. His hand knots feebly into Brett’s t-shirt; his fingers are freezing cold, and his fingernails are turning blue, the pads of his fingertips waxy and white.

“Sorry,” he whispers. There’s blood on his teeth, on his lips; Brett uses his free hand to thumb it away gently, and Liam presses a clumsy kiss to his knuckle. Brett’s throat hurts; he knows he’s crying now.

“It’s not your fault.”

“Should’ve been… more careful.”

Fuck. He’s really dragging in breath now; it sounds exhausting, almost painful. Brett sees the bloodstain spreading out of the corner of his eye.

“Don’t say you’re sorry,” Brett murmurs. “It wasn’t your fault. Don’t talk. Save your strength.”

Liam smiles - a painful, tiny ghost of a thing. “For what?”

Brett swallows; his eyes drip on Liam’s face. “Liam…”

Liam coughs, weakly, whines with pain. Blood flecks Brett’s shirt, his chest, Liam’s own face and chin; he wipes it away with trembling hands.

Liam stares up at him, panting rapidly, shallowly. Brett’s eyes are so blurry with tears he can barely see; he blinks, lets them fall, just so he can pay attention to the details in Liam’s face. The stubble on his jaw, the soft fan of his eyelashes, the slight upturn of his nose. His eyes, the bluest things Brett’s ever seen.

“I love you, Liam,” he says, his voice breaking.

A few tears trickle from the corners of Liam’s eyes. “I love you too,” he breathes.

Brett leans down and gives him the most loving kiss he can muster, trying not to think about all the others - the ones that weren’t tainted with grief. He must’ve kissed Liam thousands of times by now… but not like this. Never like this.

“Close your eyes,” Brett says, and his voice crackles like wood on a fire.

“I don’t… want to.” But Liam’s eyes are slipping shut, completely against his will. “Brett…”

“I’m right here, Liam,” he whispers, stroking Liam’s cheekbone gently. “I’m right here.”

He watches. Liam’s breathing is starting to slow down; he’s cold all over now, even his face, where it’s tucked against Brett’s shoulder and arm.

Liam makes one last attempt to open his eyes. He only gets them halfway, but he’s trying, and for those few brief seconds, he focuses on Brett. Brett tries to smile. “I love you, Liam,” he whispers. “I’m gonna take care of you, okay?”

Liam’s eyes close.

Everything’s still for a moment. Brett watches the rise and fall of Liam’s chest, terrified for the moment it all stops, still praying that somehow, Liam pulls through this like he has everything else.

Eight minutes after Liam closes his eyes, he exhales… and then stops. Brett waits for the next fragile inhale, but as the seconds stretch on and on and on, and they move further and further away from the last exhale, Brett realises it’s not going to happen. There’s not going to be another pitiful gasp for life. Liam’s time is up.

Brett’s chest feels like it’s breaking open, like every single one of his ribs is shattered, like his heart is throbbing with poison, like there’s blood flooding into the cavities of his lungs in the absence of air. “Liam?” he sobs. “Liam?”

No reply. He almost lifts Liam’s eyelid, to make sure, but he stops himself. He knows what he’ll find, and it’s nothing he wants to look for.

“You can’t die,” he sobs, curling his body over Liam’s protectively. “Please don’t die.”

He can’t think. He can’t think about how cold Liam’s body is, how devoid of life it is. He can’t think about Liam’s smile or eyes without remembering he’ll never see them again. He can’t think about Liam’s body, beneath his, still only momentarily - until the virus, latent inside all of them, brings his brain stem back to life.

He can’t think about having to put a knife in Liam’s skull to stop him reanimating, because Liam wouldn’t want that. Liam was always terrified of coming back. Brett can’t think about having to do it. About committing one final act of love for him.

He can’t think about anything at all.


	12. Prompt #124

**Otherwise known as “actually what happens at least once a month in my everyday life, but I fictionalised it because feels”.**

**Sick fic. Fluff. Pure fluff. Enjoy <3**

**124\. “Are you wearing my shirt?”**

~*~

"Don't leave me," Liam whines.

Brett sighs, but he smiles to himself as he turns around to look at Liam. Liam, who's curled up in the middle of their bed, a handful of crushed tissues clutched in his hand, Fudge nosing curiously at his face.

"Liam," he says, "it's only for a few hours. They just need me to help run some tests on blood samples."

Liam stuffs his face into the pillow and mumbles something; Brett sits on the edge of the bed.

Big mistake. Liam shuffles over to him and wraps an arm around Brett's hips, puts his face on Brett's thigh, and sniffles miserably. Brett - who's a total sucker for the pouting, puppy-dog eyes Liam's giving him - tugs the duvet up around his back and shoulders.

"I'm sick," Liam whines pitifully. "I'm dying."

"Jesus, Liam, you aren't dying." Liam's almost died on a few occasions and he's never, ever actually said it aloud. "You've got a seriously bad case of needing to harden the fuck up."

Liam moans thickly, sniffs again, and burrows back into Brett's lap. Brett strokes the back of his neck fondly; Liam came down with a bug yesterday afternoon - sniffing, coughing, feeling headachy and feverish - and Brett's initial panic (he wondered briefly if Liam had some kind of haemorrhagic fever, or swine flu, or some other untold and violent illness) has given way to exasperated amusement. Liam's not dying; he's got a cold, and he's not dealing with it well at all.

"My ears are blocked," Liam complains.

"Blow your nose."

"I can't, it's too stuffy."

Except that sentence comes out more like, "I cab't, id do duffy" and Brett laughs. Liam glares up at him weakly, eyes red and streaming.

"Fuck you. You don't care."

"Oh, shut up," Brett laughs, gathering Liam closer. "Of course I care. Look, if you let me go to work, I'll bring you back some cold and flu medicine, okay? Maybe even some decongestants."

Liam hesitates. Brett knows he's weighing it up - would he rather be warm and have Brett, or would he rather have a quick-fix for his cold?

"Okay," he sniffles wetly.

"Okay." Brett gets off the bed, but he leans down to kiss Liam's forehead. "I'll be back soon, alright? Have a shower. Make it really hot. Might help with your ears and nose."

Liam lays his head back on the pillow. "Okay," he says miserably.

"Stop saying okay."

"Okay," Liam replies with a small grin.

Brett shakes his head fondly as he leaves.

His shift at the infirmary goes quickly; Tamara's called in a few other people to help test blood samples, and so after three hours, Brett's able to snag some cold and flu tablets from the store room and head home. On his way, he stops at the inventory hall and snags some apples too - Liam loves apples, and they're bound to cheer him up.

When he opens the front door, he's greeted by the sight of Liam, curled up on the couch, piled under blankets and pillows and looking only marginally healthier than when Brett left.

"Hi," he croaks.

"Hey, Li." Brett shuts the door. "You feeling any better?"

"No," Liam says miserably. "I had a shower though. It sorta helped my nose."

"Good." Brett goes to the kitchen and finds their powdered PowerAde, mixes some up, and brings it over to the couch. "Here. Found you some cold and flu medicine."

"I love you," Liam breathes.

"I know. Drink up."

Liam takes the pills and drinks half the glass before putting back on the coffee table and closing his eyes. "I'm still dying," he wheezes. "Didn't work."

"Here. I'll spoon you till you're better." As Liam peels back the blankets surrounding him, Brett catches sight of his shirt - or rather, he catches sight of one of his shirts, drowning Liam in its fabric. It's an older one, navy blue and so worn it feels almost like silk, and it's a little too big for him. The sleeves are almost reaching Liam's elbows, and he has to tug it up Liam's shoulder to make sure it doesn't fall off him.

"Are you wearing my shirt?" he asks teasingly.

"You weren't here and I was sad," Liam says, sniffing.

Brett smiles. "You know you're pretty much the cutest thing ever, Liam?" he asks.

Liam glares at him - which would normally be intimidating, but the effect is softened by the cocoon of blankets and how red Liam's nose is. "I am not."

"Yeah you are. Now move over." He crawls up onto the couch behind Liam and wraps Liam securely in his arms. "That better?"

"Mm, yeah." Liam wipes his nose on a tissue; Brett winces at the squishing noise his nose makes. "I'm still probably dying."

"Oh, shut up."


	13. Paper Planes Outtake #3 - Sleepover

**I know I kNOW I SHOULD BE WRITING DECIBELS**

**(And I am, just, very, very slowly)**

**Background - Liam was with Garrett for 2-ish years before getting together with Brett; Garrett was a dick (as per Briam stories seem to dictate, lol, but Garrett really IS a dick.)**

**Enjoy!**

~*~

It’s the first night Liam’s spending at Brett’s place, and Brett’s sort of nervous.

He’s not sure about what, exactly; Liam seems perfectly happy to move at whatever speed Brett dictates.

He watches as Liam almost slinks into his bedroom, his glasses still on even though his eyelashes are wet from washing his face. He’s wearing a t-shirt and sweats, and if Brett didn’t know better, he’d say Liam was nervous as well.

Which is ridiculous. Because Liam’s got loads of experience sleeping with other dudes and Brett has absolutely zero. Liam isn’t nervous, surely?

“Hey,” Brett says. “You wanna grab the light switch?”

“Sure,” Liam replies softly, flicking the light. The room is immediately plunged into a muted golden light from Brett’s bedside lamp.

Liam pads over to the bed slowly. Brett’s sort of expecting that Liam will take at least his shirt off, but he doesn’t - he removes his glasses, slowly, and puts them on the bedside table, checks his phone, and then rolls his shoulders back. Now that Brett’s looking, Liam’s noticeably tense, keyed-up; he’s not sure what’s going on, or how to fix it.

He’s just about to open his mouth to say something when Liam pulls back the covers a little and slides into bed with him. He still looks nervous, even though Brett can see his pupils swelling up with the effects of his Risperdal.

“Thanks,” Liam says awkwardly. “For, um, for letting me stay.”

Letting you stay? Brett wonders. “I wanted you to,” he says.

Liam fidgets. He still hasn’t laid down, and he’s sitting about as far away from Brett as he can. Brett still can’t work out what’s wrong. Has he somehow said or done something that’s offended Liam, or scared him off?

“You gonna sleep sitting up?” he asks quietly.

Liam gives him a timid smile and slides into the sheets properly. He’s still about as far away as he can get, though - he’s gotta be on the edge of the mattress.

Brett stretches out his arm towards Liam and cards Liam’s hair softly. Liam gives a brief, but violent shiver, surprising Brett so thoroughly he removes his hand.

“Sorry,” he whispers. “I didn’t mean to, uh…”

Fuck, Liam looks really upset; he’s not meeting Brett’s eyes and he’s so wound up Brett thinks he might leave at any given moment.

“Hey, uh,” Brett tries. “Hey. Why don’t you come here?” He holds out his arm, offering up his chest and shoulder for Liam to rest on. “You don’t have to, but I would like it if you did.”

Liam finally meets his eyes. “Are you sure?” he asks quietly.

Brett blinks. “Yeah, of course. C’mere.”

Liam shuffles over to him and rests against Brett’s chest and shoulder; he’s still sort of tense, so Brett winds him in close and closer until Liam’s forced to roll right up against him.

“Hmm,” Brett sighs. “You’re so warm and snuggly.” 

“You don’t mind this?” Liam asks.

“No way, dude, cuddling is the shit. Why?”

Liam picks at a loose thread on Brett’s flat sheet. “I uh,” he says. “Garrett used to… I dunno, Garrett used to say I wasn’t affectionate enough, but then when I’d, uh… you know what, this is a really sad story, and I don’t want you to feel sorry for me, so-”

“I wanna know if you wanna tell it,” Brett says quickly.

Liam takes a breath. “Okay. Well, Garrett would say I wasn’t affectionate enough but then when I’d try to get close at night - you know, like this, to cuddle or whatever - he’d push me off and roll his eyes and say I was being too needy and clingy. And I never got it.”

Liam sounds so hurt and confused in that last sentence that Brett’s heart breaks a little. “I think you’re plenty affectionate,” he says. “And I like cuddling. So don’t worry about… what you think I might do, because I’m not Garrett, okay? I’m not gonna confuse you like that.”

“So you really don’t mind?” Liam asks.

“Nope. In fact, you should take your shirt off. Did you know that skin-to-skin contact promotes the release of oxytocin, which fosters feelings of relief, happiness, and love?”

Liam smiles as he strips his shirt off. “I didn’t know that.”

“Well, you do now. Of course, you have to test it, so-”

Liam lies back against him, and he’s deliciously warm against Brett’s skin, his own soft and smooth and almost hairless, apart from his snail trail and the patch on his chest. He curls up close, his head back on Brett’s shoulder, and smiles.

“Yep. I can feel it. All that oxytocin…”

Brett laughs.


	14. Paper Planes Outtake #4 - Wingman

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **I don’t even know. There’s humour, and then there’s smut, and then there’s angst, and then there’s fluff, and then it ends pretty abruptly. I suck lmao**
> 
>  
> 
> **Backstory: Liam was with Garrett and they broke up and Brett’s a great friend. Enjoy. (Hopefully this ties everyone over till I get my shit together and actually finish a chapter of… well, anything)**

“So how’re you gonna get me in?”

It’s Tuesday night, and Brett’s dragged a moping Liam out of his self-imposed cocoon of post-breakup misery to… wherever this is. Somewhere called Sinema.

“You look old enough,” Brett says confidently.

“No, I don’t,” Liam sighs, but he follows Brett up the stairs to the club regardless.

“Look, Li - I really need a wingman tonight,” Brett says. “And girls will find you non-threatening on account of you being gay and everything.”

“You realise that people can’t tell by looking at me that I’m gay, right?” Liam asks. “I don’t having a blinking signal on my forehead that says "raging homosexual”. Girls are going to look at me and think I’m fucking depressed, which, by the way, I am.“

"Garrett broke your heart, not your dick,” Brett says. “And you can work that whole sad puppy thing. I’ll tell the girls that I’m here to be a supportive friend, and bam. I get laid, you get out of your dorm for the first time in a week, and we drink. Everybody wins.”

“I can’t drink,” Liam says pointedly.

“Is this the age thing? Because I can-”

“It’s the being on antipsychotics thing, but thanks for selflessly offering to break the law just for the sake of getting me shitfaced.”

Brett grins. “Okay. God, you’re such a little sourpuss.”

Liam tries not to smile. “Fuck off, I’m moping. Seriously. I was having a perfectly good time eating my weight in chocolate and watching Piper singlehandedly destroy her own life in prison, and you came and dragged me out-”

“Liam, nobody remembers what you look like anymore.”

“Dude, I was gonna watch fucking Zombieland, and Now You See Me, American Ultra-”

“Someone’s got a crush on Jesse Eisenberg. That’s good, he looks nothing like Garrett. You must be moving on.”

“He looks too dorky to be an asshole, more like.”

“ID,” the bouncer says tiredly.

Brett grins at the guy. “Hey, Danny.” He takes his ID out and shows it. “Reckon you could do me just… a really small… teeny-tiny-”

Danny’s eyes scrape over Liam. “What’s with the jailbait?”

Liam scowls; Brett puts an arm over his shoulders, and suddenly Liam’s feeling all weirdly emotional and very much like he’d like to get Brett’s other arm around him and just get a fucking hug for once. Instead, he revels quietly in Brett’s warmth as he’s tugged closer.

“This,” Brett says, “is Liam. Liam’s my wingman tonight.”

“Right. Does your wingman have ID?”

Brett shuffles closer. “Listen, dude,” he says pleadingly. “He’s sort of maybe a _little_ underage. You reckon you could cut me some slack and let him in?”

“How old is he? Seventeen?”

“Nineteen,” Liam says dryly.

“And he’s just had his heart violently crushed. Danny. I would owe you forever. And look.” Brett takes Liam’s chin; Liam’s heart does a weird, stumbling, fluttering thing in his chest at the sensation. “He’s got stubble. He’s believable enough, right?”

Danny sighs, but steps back. “Don’t order anything at the bar, or it’s my job on the table,” he warns Liam.

Liam shrugs. “Wasn’t gonna,” he says as he follows Brett inside.

Brett approaches the bar almost immediately; Liam follows and slinks into a seat away from the bartender. “You want anything?” Brett asks, raising his voice to be heard over the din.

“Just a coke or something,” Liam answers.

“Be back soon.” Brett claps his shoulder and leaves to order; when he comes back, he’s got two beers and Liam’s coke. He’s clearly intending on getting absolutely smashed, Liam realises.

“Virgin rum and coke on the rocks, your majesty,” Brett says, putting the glass down in front of him.

“So you got me coke with ice in it?” Liam asks flatly.

“Yep.”

“Thanks.” He sips at it. “Now what?”

“Now I try to score.”

“And what am I doing? Just sitting here and looking pretty?”

“Absolutely, and you’re great at it,” Brett says, and Liam blinks confusedly. “First, though, I’m gonna drink these.”

There’s sport on one of the televisions behind the bar. Liam watches disinterestedly, sipping on his coke and watching Brett slam back the first two beers, then another two, and then a few shots. Brett is most definitely going to be hammered.

“Pick a girl,” Brett says.

“Gay,” Liam replies, pretty much bored to tears already.

“I know, I hadn’t exactly forgotten that, Mopey McDownInTheDumps. I meant for me.”

“I’m not mopey,” Liam replies sullenly. “I’m fucking heartbroken, there’s a difference, you insensitive prick.”

He’s kind of joking - at least about the last part - but Brett must not realise that, because there’s a long silence, and then Brett puts a hand on his back. Liam swivels his chair to face him, surprised; Brett looks really concerned.

“Are you okay?” he asks, quiet even though the music is loud. “Do you wanna go home?”

Liam attempts to shake the sadness off. “No,” he says, trying on a smile. “No, I’m okay. Sorry. I was joking… about the insensitive prick thing, anyway.” And the way Brett’s looking at him kind of makes Liam wanna cry, so he turns to survey the room. “Uh… the blonde girl. In the purple crop top.”

“Alright.” Brett grins and orders another shot, leaving it on the counter and saying, “Wish me luck,” before disappearing into the throng of people.

Liam smiles a little to himself and goes back to watching the sport. He orders another coke for himself when the bartender asks if he wants anything. A few minutes pass.

A hand touches his shoulder; he turns to find Brett slumping back into the seat next to him dejectedly.

“Man,” Brett groans.

“What?” Liam watches Brett toss back a shot.

“I swear, I nearly picked that girl up,” Brett says sadly. “I thought I was doing well.”

“She got a boyfriend?” Liam asks, toying with the straw in his coke.

“She’s got a girlfriend,” Brett sighs. “No chance there.”

“At least you aren’t one of those pricks who said she just hadn’t met the right dick yet,” Liam says. “What’s up? You’ll pick up.” He grins. “Some girl here will be dumb enough to go home with your ugly ass.”

“Fucking rude,” Brett says, his jaw hanging open. Liam snickers. “How’s your coke?”

Liam sniffs. “I’d ask about your hangover but you don’t have one yet.”

Brett narrows his eyes, but his lips twitch into a smile. He looks around the bar, sighing miserably.

“Dude,” Liam says. “You’re moping like someone broke your fucking heart. I’m not doing that and I just broke up with my boyfriend of three years, so what’s going on?”

“Liam, it has been so long since I got laid, my dick may just shrivel up and fall off,” Brett says.

“Wouldn’t want that,” Liam says.

“What about you?”

“What about me?”

“You don’t miss sex?”

“Not right now,” Liam says, even though that’s a huge fucking lie and it’s been on his mind almost all day today. “Getting your heart broken kind of fucks with your libido.”

“I’m kinda jealous,” Brett says.

“… That I got my heart broken? I mean, you can have it if you want…”

“No, no,” Brett chuckles; he’s a little tipsy by now. “I mean, guys always want sex, and you’re gay, and you’re hot, so it must be easy to get sex.”

_Did he just call me hot?_ Liam wonders, blinking confusedly. “Uh,” he says, tripping over his words. “The thing is, there’s a lot less gay people than straight people… I have to _find_ gay people to get laid, you know. And, dude, it’s not like I can just find another gay guy and fuck him, I might not be his type or he might not be mine, you know?”

“Isn’t that what Grindr’s for?”

“Wouldn’t know. Don’t use it.”

“What?” Brett squawks, and Liam grins; Brett’s well on his way to plastered. “Dude, dude. No. You have gotta get laid tonight.”

“Why?” Liam chuckles, looking into his coke.

“Because… because fuck Garrett, that’s why!”

“I’m not fucking Garrett, that’s the whole reason I’m here watching your stupid ass get drunk on a fucking Tuesday night.”

“Why aren’t you drinking again?”

“I’m nineteen, remember?” Liam asks patiently. “You had to sneak me in. Danny felt sorry for you and let me in.”

“Oh yeah.”

Liam shakes his head and laughs. Brett finishes off his drink, sighs, and says, “Let’s bounce. I’m not picking up tonight.”

“Sure?”

“Yeah. Let’s go to the beach or something.”

~*~

By the time they’ve walked down to the beach, Brett’s sobered up a little bit. They spend a while dicking around in the sand - Liam shoves Brett into the water, Brett picks him up and throws him into an oncoming wave, and they’re both drenched by the time they walk back to Brett’s car, giggling.

Liam hasn’t had this much fun for a while. It’s easier to be with Brett than Garrett. Safer. He knows he’s falling a little in love, but for now, he just wants to pretend that maybe it could happen.

Pete’s gone when they get back to Brett’s apartment. Brett lets Liam shower first, and he’s quick, barely rinsing off the dried salt before stepping out.

After Brett’s showered, they collapse onto the sofa. They’re only halfway through a movie when Brett sighs - Liam’s watching with total disinterest as the straight couple on screen have sex, but it’s getting a rise out of Brett, apparently.

"It looks so _boring,_ " Liam mutters. "Look. In, out, in, out - I could use that rhythm like a fucking metronome. That can't feel good. And if she says _fuck me harder_ one more time I'm going to rip my ears off. Is this seriously the best sex scene middle-aged men can think of?"

Brett makes a vaguely distressed whining noise; he's clearly hard, and Liam's been simultaneously trying to ignore it and kill it with his overwrought barrage of criticism for the movie. It's clearly not working.

“How long’s it been?” Liam asks.

“Probably a month.”

“You poor soul,” Liam says dryly.

“I’d literally fuck anyone right now,” he says. “This is ridiculous.”

“I bet you wouldn’t fuck me,” Liam chuckles. He’s kidding, but Brett seems to take him seriously, because he’s eyeing Liam off with an unreadable expression.

“Sorry,” Liam says. “Didn’t mean to freak you out or-”

Brett surges across the couch and kisses him, hard, and Liam’s so stunned he stays totally still for a moment.

Brett pulls away. “I would,” he says.

Liam blinks, opens his mouth. Brett still tastes like cheap beer. “Are… you drunk…?”

“No,” Brett says. “I sobered up ages ago.”

“Look, forgive me for thinking my straight best friend is whack for wanting to sleep with me all of a sudden, but…” He watches Brett lick his lips softly, and fuck, he knows this is a really bad-awful idea, but… Brett’s been on his mind for ages now, and Garrett’s not in the picture anymore, and…

Liam leans forward this time, initiates the kiss and quickly dominates Brett’s mouth - mostly with the advantage of surprise, and the fact that Brett seems shocked and still underneath him.

Brett kisses back, hesitantly, and Liam cups his face, leaning in closer and breathing through his mouth and wishing there was some way he could touch all of Brett at once.

Brett breaks the kiss. “Brett,” Liam says, feeling suddenly really awkward and actually kind of predatory about this whole thing. “I-”

“Bedroom,” Brett rasps, and then he’s standing up and dragging Liam off the couch by his hand, down the hallway, and into his room. “This is-”

Liam steps back into his space and pulls Brett’s neck down so he can kiss him properly, backing him slowly towards the bed. Brett’s holding his hips, then slipping his hands up under Liam’s shirt, and Liam’s sighing with pleasure - he hasn’t been touched in a long time, not like this, and this is Brett, who makes him feel safer than anyone ever has.

Brett’s legs hit the bed, and he’s falling down against it; Liam crawls up on top of him, between Brett’s legs. Brett’s never slept with another guy before - probably hasn’t kissed one before tonight - and Liam’s going to make sure he never fucking forgets it.

“What if it doesn’t work?” Brett pants.

Liam slides up between Brett’s legs, pushes his pelvis down to where Brett’s dick is pushing half-heartedly against the front of his jeans. He feels Brett swell up under the grinding sensation and smiles at Brett.

“It’s gonna work.”

“Is yours?”

“Mine is working just fine,” Liam murmurs, leaning down to kiss Brett softly. He shudders and groans when Brett’s hand cups him, gently at first, and then with increasing pressure. He rolls into Brett’s hand, holds his neck, breathes against his cheek. Brett smells like the ocean.

Liam whimpers when Brett tips him back onto the mattress and continues rubbing at him through his jeans. “Yeah,” he marvels. “Yeah, it’s working great.” Liam notices Brett’s getting harder too, but he doesn’t point it out. He thinks it’s pretty cool, the way Brett’s suddenly fascinated with massaging his dick.

“Can I take your jeans off?” Brett asks.

“Go for it,” Liam breathes, kind of in a state of disbelief. He thought Brett would have way more reservations than this, but he’s popping the button on Liam’s jeans, pulling the zip down, and then beginning to tug them off his hips.

Liam lifts up to let Brett get the jeans off him, biting his lip when Brett’s hand is straight back on his cock. “Looks nice,” Brett murmurs.

“Huh?”

“How hard you are. Looks nice.”

Liam laughs a little. “Yeah?” He’s never had any complaints, not that he particularly sleeps around a lot. He reaches for Brett’s shirt. “Take this off.”

He swears Brett shivers a little, but he does what Liam asks, pulling his shirt off over his head. Liam gets his legs around Brett’s waist and rolls them over, so that he’s straddling Brett’s hips. Brett looks up at him, stunned.

“Yeah, that’s new, huh?” With that, Liam leans down and kisses him, then moves on down his jaw, neck - he pays special attention to the little spot that makes Brett gasp underneath him - and then all the way down to his nipples, which he tweaks.

“Oh, shit,” Brett says, sounding surprised. “That’s good.”

“Oh, c'mon, a girl’s never played with your nipples before?”

“No. I didn’t know they could feel good for guys.” Brett’s sitting up, so Liam backs off and lets him, watching as Brett leans forward to kiss him hungrily.

“I want you,” he breathes against Liam’s face.

Liam lets out a trembling breath. “Tell me _how_ you want me,” he whispers.

“I want… I want to…”

“You wanna fuck me?” Liam murmurs, kissing the corner of Brett’s mouth. Brett opens his lips, eyes closed, and nods.

“Yes,” Brett whispers.

“So fuck me.”

Brett groans, surges forward until Liam’s on his back again, rolls up between his legs. Liam parts them obediently, and his whole body is throbbing with desire when Brett’s wide, heavy weight enters his space, settles between his hips.

“You now,” Brett says, tugging Liam’s shirt.

Liam pulls his shirt off, smirking when Brett’s eyes drink him up eagerly. “Like what you see?”

“You’re pretty ripped for a munchkin.”

“Fuck you,” Liam murmurs, leaning up on his elbows to kiss Brett’s throat. Brett’s hands ghost up his sides and to his chest, and then his thumbs land on Liam’s nipples tentatively.

Liam sighs and flops back onto the pillows, his eyes shut. “Am I doing this right?” Brett asks.

“Do I look like I’m complaining?” Liam breathes.

“Well, not exactly.” There’s a teasing note to Brett’s voice, and he’s leaning forward and capturing the hardened nub of Liam’s right nipple in his mouth.

Liam moans - which apparently surprises them both, because they make eye contact, and something ignites between them, hot and desperate and filled with promise.

“These,” Liam pants, yanking at Brett’s jeans. “Off. Now.”

Brett unfastens his jeans and kicks them off, and then he’s back between Liam’s legs - only two thin layers of cotton separate them, and Liam doesn’t resist when Brett pulls his off.

“What do I have to do?” Brett pants. “To get you ready?”

“You gotta stretch me,” Liam groans. “Lube?”

“I have some.”

“Use lots.”

Brett reaches into his bedside table and produces a tube of lube. “Okay, how do I do this?”

“Same way you would a girl, just slower, one finger at a time,” Liam breathes. “I’ll tell you if something hurts.”

“Condom?”

“I’m clean, but yeah.”

“Okay.”

They have sort of a false start; Brett pokes him a little too hard initially, and Liam has to explain the concept of easing into it, but after that, they’re good - and Brett turns Liam over, puts him on his hands and knees and fingers him like that, strokes him, and when Liam turns to look over his shoulder, Brett’s smirking.

“Fuck you, Brett,” Liam breathes, feeling his stomach clench with pleasure.

“No,” Brett says, “I’m going to fuck you, that was the deal.”

“Damn straight, I like the deal - now c'mon, stop teasing me, Jesus, I’m not a scared little virgin-”

Brett withdraws his fingers and flips Liam over bodily - his back hits the mattress with a thump, and he bounces, and wow, it’s kind of really hot that Brett’s so much bigger than him, and able to throw him around like that-

Brett rips the condom open with his teeth and rolls it on before slathering himself - and Liam - in a substantial amount of lube. Then he’s pressing up between Liam’s legs and saying, “Are you su-”

“God, yes, hurry up,” Liam groans, and Brett’s grinning as he lines himself up and begins to push forward.

Liam’s been around the rodeo a few times, so he knows the key is to relax, and to breathe, and to have something to distract himself with - and even as his body accepts Brett slowly, he pulls Brett’s neck down so he can kiss him hungrily.

Brett groans, pulling out a little bit and then pushing back in, and the pressure inside Liam is increasing rapidly, and he’s helpless to stay still from it - he wriggles a little, moans into Brett’s mouth, rakes his hands down Brett’s back and leaves marks. He doesn’t care.

“Liam,” Brett whispers. “Fuck, are you okay? You’re so tight, you-”

“I’m fine, I’m fine, keep going.” Brett starts to pick up the pace with that, his hips knocking against Liam’s, his hands tangled in Liam’s hair as he thrusts. Liam clings to his shoulders - his huge, broad, beautiful shoulders, covered in whorls of ink that shift under the half light, and-

Brett’s cock brushes his prostate, and Liam whimpers, melting bonelessly against the bed, his own dick giving a brief, hopeful spurt of precome. Brett reaches one hand down to stroke it.

“This okay?” he pants.

“Huh?” Liam moans, tilting his hips a little.

“Is this-”

“Oh, fuck, keep - keep doing that, that’s-”

“This?” Brett pushes forward again. “What’s so good about - wow, you’re really, _really_ vocal, I-”

“Harder,” Liam pants. “Please.”

Brett drives forward, and Liam wraps his legs around Brett’s waist and hips, rocking up into Brett’s hand and revelling in having his hair tugged reasonably hard. Brett’s really slamming into him now, and-

“I’m gonna come,” he gasps.

Brett just leans down - lurches, really - and catches his mouth in a kiss, still pulling his hair and stroking him and Liam’s orgasm hits him like a fucking wrecking ball; he clenches as he comes, hard, stifling a cry into Brett’s mouth and rolling desperately into Brett’s hand, spilling messily between them.

“Liam,” he groans. “I-”

He doesn’t get much further; Liam feels him twitch, and his movements are stuttering as he follows Liam right over the edge.

Liam’s kind of expecting Brett to just pull out and then stammer out some awful, half-constructed sentence about not being gay and not meaning for it to go that far - he’s even got his withering response prepared - but Brett slumps down against him, despite Liam’s come cooling on his belly, and wraps his arms tightly around Liam’s shoulders, tucks his face against Liam’s neck with a sigh, and goes still.

Liam’s still for a moment. He’s sweating, and his heart is still pumping rapidly, and his legs are shaking. Brett’s still kind of hard inside him, but Liam’s more focussed on how warm this hug is.

He puts his arms around Brett hesitantly. Isn’t this sort of what he’s wanted all along? Brett, in varying intimate situations, both emotional and physical? A hug? A place that feels safe enough to cry in?

His eyes sting. Brett moves against his body. Liam can hardly breathe, and it has very little to do with the extra one hundred and eighty pounds currently lying on top of him.

“I’m gonna get a towel,” Brett yawns, and Liam nods jerkily, not trusting his voice.

Brett rises up awkwardly, holds the back of Liam’s thigh as he pulls out. Liam winces a little - Brett did fuck him pretty hard, at his own request, and Brett’s a little bigger than average - and turns his head as Brett leaves the room, nibbling on his lip.

He presses his hands against his eyes, swallowing thickly. _Don’t cry_ , he begs himself. _He’s gonna judge you so fucking hard if you cry._

And the worst part is that he’s not sure what’s wrong, really. Is it that he had sex with his best friend? Is it that this is the first time he’s had sex since Garrett? Is it that he knows it’ll never be more than sex? Is it that he really just kind of needs a hug, and for a few uninterrupted minutes of crying?

It could be all of those. It could also be that Liam really misses Garrett, no matter how shitty he was, and that he just feels really lost and kind of alone.

The door creaks; Liam jumps a little. Brett’s padding back into the room, then climbing back up onto the bed. “Got a wet towel,” he says, sounding dopey and happy and… well, like he just had sex. “I even made it warm for you.”

Liam can’t risk looking at him, or even talking; his eyes are watering and he knows if he speaks, his voice will break. He’s reaching out to take the towel when Brett’s voice says, “I’ll do it,” really hesitantly, like he’s not quite sure what’s going on. Liam doesn’t blame him - he isn’t either.

Brett’s hand cleans his belly up, then his hips, before moving onto his dick. By the time he’s done, Liam’s shaking, mostly with fear - he knows this can’t end well, and this is the closest, most meaningful relationship he’s ever formed in his life, and if he loses this - if he loses Brett as a friend, then-

Brett’s hand strokes his hair; he’s kneeling beside Liam on the bed. “Liam?” he asks softly.

“What?” Liam snaps - except it comes out as more of a sob. A few tears slip out from his eyes even when he screws them shut, and that’s the end of his fight to stay in control - suddenly, there are tears coursing down his cheeks and he has no fucking idea what’s wrong with him.

There’s a long silence; Liam rolls onto his side, away from Brett, still trembling. He should have known - he should have thought ahead, actually stopped to fucking process for once-

“Here,” Brett says softly, and there’s a large, soft blanket settling over his body. “That better?”

Liam pulls the edges closer. “Thanks.”

Brett leaves the bed. Liam listens to the bathroom fan flick on, the soft ripping noise of toilet paper being torn from the roll, and then footsteps coming back. The bed dips again.

“I know this is, you know… kind of ratchet,” Brett mumbles helplessly, “but I don’t have tissues. So here.” He reaches over and tucks a neatly folded pile of toilet paper into Liam’s hand. Liam presses it self-consciously against his nose, trying not to sniffle.

Brett lies down behind him, wraps an arm over Liam. They lie like that for a while, until Liam’s stopped crying, until the numbers on Brett’s digital alarm clock are pulsing some ridiculously late hour. Liam feels exhausted.

“You okay?” Brett asks.

“Yeah,” Liam says softly. “Thank you.”

“No problem.” Brett’s hand twitches near Liam’s forearm. “Can I tell you something, Li?”

“Sure.” Liam’s exhausted just thinking about having to pull himself together and take care of Brett, but he’ll do it, because that’s what he does and it’s far preferable to dealing with his own problems anyway.

“Will you roll over?”

Liam rolls over. His eyes are hot and wet and they feel kind of puffy. Brett gives him a shaky smile.

“I just wanted you to know, I… I really liked that, and I really like you, and… well, I dunno. Maybe we could try going somewhere.”

“Somewhere?” Liam rasps blankly.

“Yeah. Like… like for a d-date?” Brett almost chickens out of saying the word; Liam’s surprised, then miserable.

“I don’t think you get it.” He wipes his eyes. “Brett, Garrett kind of emotionally eviscerated me, and I know I’m saying that in a _ha ha, look at my angst_ kind of way, but I really mean it in more of a _oh God, being emotionally intimate with anyone ever again feels like an impossible task_ kind of way.”

Brett strokes his hair, looking shattered and sympathetic. “I’m sorry.”

“I know you are.” Liam wipes his eyes. “Stop being so nice to me. You’re making me cry. And… I like you too, I just…”

“Can’t fathom being emotionally intimate with anyone ever again,” Brett finishes for him.

“Yeah. Fuck Garrett, seriously.”

“Okay,” Brett says, smiling softly. “So we wait until your heart isn’t in pieces.”

Liam stares up at him, and he wants this - he wants this so badly, wants to really believe that Brett can be whatever he needs and that it won’t come with a price tag, that Brett will wait, that Liam’s not going to end up pushed into anything he doesn’t want to be, and-

“Friends first,” Brett says. “Right?”

“Right,” Liam says softly. “It might take a while.”

“That’s okay. I’ll wait.”

“I don’t expect you to,” Liam says, feeling flustered - which is odd, considering he just had Brett’s dick inside him.

“I know.” Brett leans back from him. “You okay now?”

Liam shivers. He’s still wrapped in the blanket. “Um. I think so.”

“Okay,” Brett says softly.

They lie there for a while longer. Liam feels awkward as fuck about all the crying he just did - God, he doesn’t want Brett to think he regularly cries during or after sex - and Brett’s clearly contemplating him carefully.

“You wanna take a shower?” Brett asks slowly. “Clean up?”

“With… you?” Liam asks hesitantly.

“Only if you want to. Otherwise I’ll leave you to it.”

He doesn’t really want to be on his own, so they get into the shower together and Liam even lets Brett clean him up a little bit - he’s still trembling like a frightened animal, which is pretty normal for him after sex. At least since Garrett anyway.

“Brett?” he asks softly.

Brett turns to him; he’s just gotten dressed and he’s finding Liam some clothes of his to wear. Liam’s are in the wash. “Yeah?”

“Can you… pretend I never did that?” Liam asks. “I’m not usually like that.”

“Like what?” Brett hands him some clothes.

“I don’t usually cry. Before, during, or after. So if you could - that was shit of me, I won’t do it again, and-”

Brett shuts him up with a small kiss on the mouth, then pulls back and smiles gently. “Hey. I don’t mind, okay? I get it. First time since Garrett, right?”

Liam nods.

“Makes sense. It’s not weird. I’m not judging you.” He rubs Liam’s arms. “Are you warm enough now?” he asks softly.

Liam doesn’t have it in him to break it to Brett that he was shaking out of fright, not because he was cold. “Yeah. Thank you.”

“You wanna watch a movie?” Brett asks slowly. “Or… I don’t wanna force you to do anything. I’ll take you home if that’s what you want.”

Nothing sounds worse than his dorm room, just down the hall from Garrett. Liam ducks his head and shakes it, refusing to meet Brett’s eyes. “Movie sounds good,” he mumbles.

Brett licks his lips. “Liam, I… I’m sorry. I’m really sorry. I shouldn’t have started anything.”

“Don’t be sorry for that. I enjoyed it. I’m just being weird about it.”

“Okay,” Brett murmurs. “You wanna tell me why?”

Liam nibbles his lip. His friendship with Brett could be riding on this. He needs, for once in his life, to communicate properly. “You’re nicer to me than anyone else ever has been,” Liam admits. “Garrett used sex to get me to do what he wanted, as a bargaining tool, and to replace actual affection. I can’t separate all of it. I’m waiting for you to act like a dick.”

Brett lets out a gust of air and draws Liam into a hug. “Liam,” he murmurs. “I’m not gonna do that to you, okay? I know I have to prove it and not just say it but… Jesus, dude, I’m not Garrett, I’d never hurt you on purpose.” He pulls back a little. “If it was completely horrible you never want to have sex with me again, that’s fine, and we’ll still be friends.”

Liam has to laugh at that. “It wasn’t horrible. It was good, actually, it was great. And… I do wanna do it again, I just…”

“Don’t wanna do it while you’re still heartbroken?” Brett asks softly.

“Yeah,” Liam sighs.

“Then we won’t. We’ll watch a movie, order pizza, and not fuck until you realise Garrett was beneath you the entire time.”

Liam smiles a little as they settle into the couch. Brett’s three slices deep into their pizza when Liam says, “So. Your dick still in danger of falling off?”

Brett laughs. “No, not anymore. Thanks for the concern.”

“No problem.”

“So you enjoyed it, right?”

“I always enjoy getting fucked,” Liam says candidly, watching Brett splutter. “You?”

“It was really good,” Brett admits. “Some of the best I’ve ever had probably. Do you always, uh…?”

“Catch?” Liam asks dryly. “Uh, usually. Sometimes I top. But I enjoy bottoming more. Probably seventy-thirty?”

“Would you top me?” Brett asks, and Liam chokes a little.

“I - if you asked me to, yeah. I guess.”

“You seemed like you were having loads of fun, that’s all,” Brett says, and Liam laughs - probably louder than is strictly necessary.

“You weren’t complaining,” he teases, then, affecting Brett’s voice, “Uh, Liam, you’re _sooo tight_.”

“Oh, shut up,” Brett laughs, kicking his leg in retaliation. “You are. Way tighter than a girl, anyway.”

“Well, it’s not like I’ve gotten laid recently either,” Liam says, “and, not meaning to inflate your ego or anything, but you’ve definitely got the biggest dick of all the people I’ve slept with.”

Brett puffs his chest out proudly. “Hey,” Liam says warningly. “It’s not what you’ve got, it’s how you use it. Best sex I’ve had to date was a guy who was four inches hard but man, he knew exactly what he was doing with every single one of those four inches.”

“Oh yeah? You’ll have to show me what he did so I can do better.”

Liam laughs. “It wasn’t a challenge.”

“It is now,” Brett chuckles.


End file.
